I am 15 chapters ahead on my patreón, check it out if you are interested.
https://www.patréon.com/emperordragon
________________________________________
Chapter 77: Pizza, Teasing, and the Age Gap Problem
Jon's Perspective
Jon balanced the stack of pizza boxes with the care of a man handling rare, fragile antiques, cautiously navigating his way to the front counter of the pizzeria. The warm, inviting aroma of freshly baked dough mingled with the rich scent of melted mozzarella, tangy tomato sauce, and a medley of Italian herbs, trailing behind him like a culinary siren song. It was almost enough to make him forget he was there to pay the bill and pick up food, not just smell it.
As he reached the counter, he placed the boxes down gently and reached for his wallet. The cashier smiled as she rang up the order. Jon decided, on a whim, to add a few extra sides—some garlic knots, a couple dipping sauces, maybe a salad no one would touch but he could pretend he ordered for balance.
Swiping his card, he waited for the receipt, his mind already drifting to the chaos waiting at home. He imagined Jay methodically lifting each slice, examining the crust as if it were a power tool straight from his workshop. Gloria would undoubtedly take one bite and dramatically declare it "the best thing she's ever put in her mouth," complete with hand gestures and a sparkle in her eye. Manny, ever the old soul, would probably start a monologue about the ancient roots of pepperoni, quoting some obscure philosopher or referencing a Roman feast. Yeah, this was going to go over well.
Outside, as the warm sun hit his face, Jon was greeted by Sam's teasing grin.
"I'd love to come with you," she said, her voice laced with playful regret, "but I'm Riley's ride. Girl Code and all that."
From behind her, Riley shot a look of exaggerated annoyance. "I'm right here, you know."
Jon chuckled and leaned in to kiss Sam lightly. "You two behave," he said, the affection in his tone undercut by the mischievous glint in his eye. "Try not to destroy another department store."
Sam gave a mock-innocent shrug, already turning toward Riley. "No promises," she said sweetly, her tone suggesting that promises were boring anyway. Riley smirked, clearly ready to follow her partner-in-crime into whatever minor chaos lay ahead.
With a final smile, Jon headed to the parking lot, the warm boxes tucked securely in his arms like treasure. Once at the car, he opened the passenger door with one hand and carefully arranged the food in the seat like it was precious cargo that couldn't be jostled. Satisfied with their placement, he slid into the driver's seat and turned on the ignition. The engine hummed to life as the scent of garlic and melted cheese filled the cabin, making his stomach growl again even though he'd already ate a few slices back at the shop. There was something about that smell—it wasn't just pizza. It was comfort. Victory. Or maybe just a lot of carbs.
The Pritchett driveway was empty when he arrived. That was either a good sign or a sign of trouble, depending on who you asked. He unlocked the front door and stepped inside, greeted not by noise or commotion, but by the soft, steady murmur of the television playing in the background. The atmosphere was unusually calm—almost suspiciously so.
In the living room, Manny was sprawled dramatically across the couch like a poet in the throes of existential dread. He had one arm draped over his forehead, the other clutching the remote, eyes fixed on a grainy black-and-white film that Jon was fairly sure hadn't been referenced since the Kennedy administration.
Jon walked through to the kitchen, the boxes balanced once more in his arms, and laid them out on the counter with the kind of reverence usually reserved for birthday cakes or sacred relics.
"Hey, Manny," he called out.
Manny turned his head slightly, eyes still on the screen. "Oh, hey. You're back."
Jon raised an eyebrow. "Where are Jay and Gloria?"
"They went out for lunch," Manny replied, not looking away. "Some place fancy. Mom said it was her turn to pick, which basically means Jay's wallet is in trouble."
Jon glanced at the wall clock. "Perfect timing. More food for us, then."
Manny's head popped up like a prairie dog. "Is that pizza?"
Jon opened the boxes with exaggerated flair, revealing the glorious assortment inside. "It is. And not just pizza—there's garlic bread, too."
A few moments later, they were both seated at the kitchen island, plates stacked high and soda cans hissing open. The two dug in with the focus and intensity of men who hadn't eaten all day, which, in Manny's case, might not be that far off.
As they ate, Jon filled the silence with stories from earlier—how Sam had gotten into a surprisingly heated debate about color palettes in a clothing store, how he had wiped the floor with Riley at the arcade, and how, when she thought he couldn't hear, Riley had told Sam he was "weird, but like, the good kind."
"She's sharp," Jon said between bites. "Kind of relentless, but in a hilarious way."
Manny, licking sauce from his fingers, leaned forward slightly. "Do you think you could introduce me to her?"
Jon paused, blinking. "Manny… she's sixteen."
Manny gave a cool, unfazed shrug. "I appreciate an older woman."
Jon nearly spat out his drink. "You're eleven."
"And love," Manny said grandly, "transcends numbers."
Jon stared at him for a long moment before pointing a breadstick at him like a gavel. "Manny, I'm begging you—maybe wait until you're at least in high school before trying to woo 'older women'."
Manny let out a long, dramatic sigh, the kind that suggested no one in the world truly understood the depth of his romantic suffering. Jon just shook his head, laughing, and passed him another slice.
The rest of the meal was quieter, the only sounds the low hum of the old movie in the background, the occasional crunch of crust, and the shared silence of two guys happily full of cheese, carbs, and sarcasm.